Potions Pandemonium
by Sassy SOBettes
Summary: When C. Warrington asks a girl to brew him an aphrodisiac potion... there is jealousy, chaos, and much confusion. EXACTLY what did she brew?! SOB One-shot


            "You are insane, you know that?" Akasha rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend, sitting cross-legged by the fire, a small, collapsible cauldron emitting fragrant blue smoke simmering in front of her.

            "Why, thank you," Fallon replied calmly, not even looking up. "All right, that's twenty minutes of simmering. It's time to add the lotus root." Reaching over, she dropped the perfectly diced white root from a cup into the cauldron, and watched in satisfaction as the potion emitted another fragrant cloud of smoke, and then settled to turn a silvery pink color. 

            Akasha watched in half-interest, half-bafflement as Fallon, waiting for the potion to boil again, systematically and efficiently ground flat, dully glossy freshwater pearls to powder, sifted the powder, and emptied it into the cauldron precisely five minutes after the addition of the lotus root. Glancing at the potions book open on Fallon's other side, she grimaced. "You have ten more ingredients to add, and it says that they all have to be added at a precise time, and prepared in very specific ways, or the whole thing will blow up."

            Fallon nodded, now occupied in distilling aloe extract into a vial, "There are only 25 total ingredients in total, and it only takes three hours to brew. Could be worse."

            Akasha wrinkled her nose, "Seriously, there are times when I wonder why you're not in Ravenclaw. So it's an independent Potions project. You could have chosen something simple like Pepper-up."

            Fallon shot the other girl a truly venomous look that showed just why she was not in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws, coldly intellectual tendencies aside, never managed to look _quite_ that vicious. "Well, I'm in Slytherin; ambitious, remember? Besides, _someone_ needs to gain back those twenty points that Malfoy's little goons lost in Herbology, knocking over the Baobab saplings... _honestly!_" She shot another murderous look, this time towards the two culprits, who gulped uneasily before slinking backwards a little. Though Crabbe and Goyle were certainly as tall as Fallon, and probably twice as wide, even they knew that Fallon Anderson, when incensed, could and would take down anything up to the size of hippogriff. The big Hufflepuff Chaser who had had the audacity to try to grope her that one time had ended up on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, groaning in pain as Fallon, sneering, had walked away without a care in the world, not even winded. 

            Akasha shook her head slightly as she watched her friend stir her now-lavender-colored potion in steady, clockwise circles. "Oh, and Fallon... just so you know, he's been watching you for the whole past hour." _He, of course, referred to Cassius Warrington, one of the Slytherin Chasers, one year above Fallon. The two had an interesting relationship that generally consisted of snarky, sarcastic bantering back and forth, a somewhat Slytherin form of flirtation. Popular opinion was that Cassius wanted Fallon, and also, though no one was stupid enough to voice this, that she wanted him as well. Unfortunately for the eardrums of the general populace, neither of them seemed inclined to do anything beside try to out-snipe each other. _

            "That's nice," Fallon said dismissively. To the common observer, she looked wholly unconcerned with the news that Akasha had just imparted upon her, but Akasha, ever observant of small nuances in human behavior, saw her friend's eyes gleam delightedly for a moment before Fallon had turned back to her potion, tossing in sage leaves one by one.

*          *          *

            Cassius Warrington had, indeed, been watching Fallon work away at her potion for the past hour. Well, nothing wrong with that! It was an excellent opportunity to watch her without getting odd or angry looks (depending on her mood) for staring. He gave an inaudible sigh. Sure, sniping around with Fallon was a load of fun in its own way, seeing who could outwit each other in their mocking repartee. But... he watched as Akasha left Fallon's side to walk towards Flint, who was sitting on the velvet couch a little ways from the fire. Flint grinned as the girl, hips swaying, walked over to him and straddled his lap for a snog. Rolling his eyes slightly, Warrington turned away from the enthusiastic couple and turned his gaze back on Fallon.

            All right... was it too much to ask to want something more than words thrown his way, every now and then? Previously, he had consoled himself that at least, Fallon did not flirt with any other male, and that her wittiness was preferable to the giggles and eyelash-fluttering nonsense of many other girls, but... was he nothing but a, well, for a lack of a better term, debate opponent for her?

            _Blast it, would that girl only loosen up if drugged?_ Wait... he stilled in his seat, and then looked back at Fallon, whose head was still bent over her cauldron in an expression of great concentration as she added snake bile from a dropper into the potion. Of course! A voice in his head berated him for thinking of doing such a base, evil thing... but Cassius Warrington was a desperate man. And he would not be taking advantage of her... _that_ much...

*          *          *

            "Guess who?" A deep voice whispered in Fallon's ear as Quidditch-roughened hands were placed in front of her eyes. Warrington felt eyelashes flutter against his palm for a moment as the girl blinked, and then, she spoke in a cool, controlled voice.

            "Warrington, you swarthy git, what do you need now?"

            "Hello to you too, wench," Warrington took his hands away from her eyes and stood up. Fallon leaned her head back and looked up at his face, and did not like the look he wore. He was plotting something... and knowing him, it was probably not good for her in any way.

            "All right. Who, how and why am I smiting? And how much are you paying me?"

            "Fallon, darling, your mind is too bent on 'smiting', it is not healthy," Warrington patted her head in a patronizing manner and continued, "Actually, I need help with a potion."

            "Ask Snape. You're a Slytherin. He'll give it to you," Fallon retorted coolly. Internally, she sighed. _Forget it, Anderson. You're nothing but a source of amusement and potions help. _

            Warrington looked rather uncomfortable, "Actually... he probably won't..."

            "What, are you planning on poisoning someone or something?"

            "Not... quite."

            "Well, what is it then? Out with it, I haven't got all day," Fallon cocked her head and waited expectantly.

            "I need you to help me brew an aphrodisiac potion," Warrington said confidentially, "I don't think Snape carries that sort of thing..."

            "Oh." Fallon's voice was toneless. "You. Want Me. To brew you a potion. So that you can slip it into some girl's drink so that she will shag you. You're a disgusting, despicable _bastard_, you know that?"

            He nodded and grinned, then put on a phony pleading voice, "Pretty please, Fallon? With a cherry and whipped cream and sprinkles and chocolate sauce on top?"

            Fallon glared, "Why should I help you do such a thing?" Unknown to Warrington, her tightly folded hands were trembling in her lap, hidden under the table. Could anyone be more _INSENSITIVE?!_ Great... the _one_ boy that she wouldn't kick if he tried to snog her... asking her to brew him a bloody lust potion so that he could go and shag some cheap floozy. _Lovely._ What _was_ it with boys, anyway? _WHY_ was it that the vile, repulsive ones all thought you were a gorgeous shaggable piece, and the one that you liked thought of you merely as a means to achieving his own ends?

            She was about to launch into a tirade condemning his selfish bone-headedness when a much more malicious thought struck her. No, don't even think of doing such a base, evil thing... but Fallon Anderson was a desperate woman. And really, he bloody _asked_ for it. A catty smile on her face, she turned back to Warrington, "I'll give it to you tonight."

            "Thanks!" he said cheerily, and sauntered out of the library. 

*          *          *

            The Slytherin girls were generally a close-knit bunch. Whenever one of them had some sort of problem, she could always depend on the others to back her up, and give her unconditional support, mischievous ideas, and stylish clothing. But Fallon did not talk to anyone of Warrington's request: she felt too... stung over the fact that he wanted her to help him snag someone _else_, and moreover, the other girls were all together with his friends and teammates. No... she would do this alone. 

            After scaring a random Hufflepuff first-year she'd met in the greenhouse into hysterics just by glaring at him fixedly and silently for ten minutes straight, Fallon felt slightly better with some of her anger released, and returned to the Slytherin Common Room, armed with potions ingredients.

            That evening, as Slytherin boys and girls once again sat around in their respective favorite places around the Common Room, doing homework, playing chess, talking, reading, or snogging, Fallon Anderson sat at her spot in front of the fire and brewed another potion.

            Three dead nettles, crushed, one ounce of rain lily pollen, one dried moonflower. Two vials of ice-plant extract, five silvery leaves of _Artemisia_, one ounce pulverized persimmon bark. All mixed in a draught of orange leaf extract and stag tears. Bring to a rolling boil, hit it with a freezing charm for five minutes, then thaw and add in a scoop of mermaid scales. 

            After she'd finished brewing the potion, Fallon carefully distilled it and poured it into a vial. She smiled as she held the crystal tube up to the light. The translucent potion gleamed a metallic ice-blue. Good. Just as it was supposed to.

            She had just brewed a flawless six-hour chastity potion.

*          *          *

            Cassius Warrington smiled wickedly to himself as he gazed at the vial in his hands. Fallon had given him her freshly-brewed potion, and, well, given her marks in that class, he was certain that it would work flawlessly. It was a Saturday morning, and as was usual, the girls were sitting across from them, gossiping idly and eating breakfast. 

            He watched, covertly, as Fallon reached over to pour herself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Here, let me get it," he said immediately. She nodded, and turned back to her conversation with Morrigun.

            A slip of his hand, and the vial had been emptied into her glass of juice. The liquid shimmered silvery blue for a moment, then turned back to its usual dark orange color. Warrington handed it to Fallon, who accepted it with a nod, and took a swig.

            It took perhaps a minute for the potion to take effect. All of the sudden, in the middle of remarking to Persephone that she hoped that McGonagall, crazy Gryffindor bint, would stop haranguing her about scaring first-years in the hallway when it was obvious that the little losers just needed to get a backbone, she gasped, and her dark eyes widened. All of the sudden, she had snatched a cloth napkin from the table and put it, bib-like, in front of the low v-neck of her black satin robe. Then, holding the napkin firmly in place, she leapt up from the table, "I'm indecent!" she shrieked in a tone of horror, before making a mad dash for the door. 

            As the students at the other tables laughed uproariously at the odd actions of the "Slytherin bitch" and his friends and their girls gave said students threatening "laugh-at-her-again-and-we'll-rip-out-your-voicebox-so-you-can't-laugh-any-more" stares, Cassius Warrington frowned and got up from the table, following Fallon out, though at a more sedate pace.

            What. The. Hell.

*          *          *

            Warrington made his way down to the dungeons with quick steps. What was wrong with Fallon? Sure, it could be possible that the potion had side effects, but... surely running away from the breakfast table shrieking that she was indecent should not be one of them? Of course, it was possible that she'd made a mistake in brewing the potion... but, he'd watched her brew it. Though from a distance, she had, as always, been quite certain in her movements. She did everything she did quite deliberately.

            Maybe it had had an adverse reaction with her pumpkin juice somehow? Oh goodness... what if she were sick? Love potions and such were banned because of their volatile nature. Warrington quickened his pace, now genuinely worried. Soon, he reached the portrait of the snake charmer that guarded the Slytherin Common Room, and muttered, "Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?" Trust Morrigun the Prefect with her droll sense of humor to come up with a password that was not only Latin and damned hard to remember, but translated (as an amused but somewhat shocked Alexander Montague had told him) to mean "Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?"

            The snake charmer opened, and Warrington walked in, making a beeline down for the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories. Soon, he was striding down the hall towards Fallon's room, and knocked on the door. 

            A muffled, timid voice from within asked, "Who calls for me?" Warrington was taken even more aback by how she sounded, like a shy little girl. Fallon Anderson, shy? Now he was sure that something was not right.

            "It's me, Cassius Warrington. May I come in?"

            "No, you may not! You are a man! It is unseemly for a man and a woman to be alone together, without chaperones. I must therefore abstain from your company, Mr. Warrington," Fallon's dazed voice called back. 

            "WHAT?!" Warrington's voice echoed through the corridor, "Damn it, Fallon, what are you playing at?"

            "I play at nothing, sir. You must leave me be. This is improper," Fallon answered back, in the same dazed voice, "I have already sinned in wearing lewd and licentious garments, and am in penance right now."

            "Improper my... Fallon!" Warrington pounded on the door, which was locked. "Alohomora!" he growled, and pushed the door open before she could make a move. The sight that met his eyes caused him to back away, stunned.

            Fallon had changed out of the form-fitting black robe that she had worn earlier in the morning, and now wore a too-large, shapeless garment that hung from her shoulders to her ankles like a loose potato sack. It looked like something that someone the approximate size of Goyle might wear, but certainly not Fallon Anderson. She had also taken the jade hairpin that had held up her hair in a French twist, and was in the process of putting the long, dark tresses in a severe, sterile, McGonagall-like bun. She gasped when he'd entered, and immediately snatched a black veil from her wardrobe, draping it over her hair and face. "Please leave my room, sir. This is highly indecorous."

            "Don't you recognize me, Fallon?! And since when d'you call me 'sir' and 'Mr.'?" Cassius asked frantically, advancing on her. Fallon retreated, grabbing a cloak off her bed and draping it over her already voluminous garments. 

            "You should not call me by my given name any more than you should be in this room! Please, I beg of you, leave me be!" Seeing that he was not about to budge, Fallon side-stepped him, and ran out like a frightened deer. There had been genuine fear in her eyes.

            Bloody hell... what was wrong with her?

*          *          *

            An hour later, Fallon was firmly ensconced in the far corner of the Common Room, covered in goodness knew how many layers of fabric, hiding... actually _hiding_ behind Xanne and Malice from prying masculine eyes. Warrington was pacing restlessly on the other side of the Common Room, now sincerely scared for her sanity. He was now certain that something... _something_ had been amiss with the potion that she'd handed him, but... it made no _sense!_

            "Do any of you have any ideas about what's gone wrong with her yet?" he asked the girls, who were all crowded around Fallon. They shook their heads, as worried about their friend as he was. 

            "She was perfectly normal yesterday," Jeannie bit her lip, "Well... as normal as Fallon can be, anyway. Went to class, got points taken off by McGonagall. We were transfiguring doilies into dolls, and Fallon's doll started spouting Shakespearean curses. Then she went to Potions and earned back the points twice over... brewed a complicated but perfect healing potion for Goblin fever for her independent Potions assignment... I really don't know, Warrington."

            "Hmm... she _was_ somewhat quiet yesterday evening though. Although she did not tell any of us why... which is kind of unusual for her. Generally when Fallon's upset... well, _everyone_ knows..." Morrigun said thoughtfully. 

            Warrington nodded uneasily and peered over the cluster of girls at the girl in question. She gave a small squeak when she noticed his eyes on her, and shrank back.

            Damn and blast... this was too unreal. Fallon, fearing _men?!_ Next thing he knew, Malfoy would be tap-dancing on a kitchen table for the house elves. Oh... what wouldn't he give for her... the old, snarky, sardonic, "lay-one-hand-on-my-body-and-I-will-remove-it-from-_your-_body" Fallon Anderson back!

            "I don't know what's wrong with her... she seems drugged or something, almost," Calypso remarked. And Warrington felt his heart drop to the ground. 

            Draco Malfoy was in the middle of a chess game against his girl Ravyn De Borgia when a frantic, pale Cassius Warrington dragged him bodily out of his chair, upsetting the chessboard and scattering pieces all over the place.

            "Ger-off, Warrington, you crazy arse! What the devil is wrong with you?!"

            "Malfoy! Potions!"

            Draco blinked, "What about potions? Snape teaches the class, Longbottom is flunking the class... is there something wrong?"

            "Are you really this dense, or are you just having a blond moment?" Warrington hissed, "Because I hope to Heaven that you're not doing this on purpose... or else!"

            "Calm down, Warrington! What's going on?"

            "What potion is silvery blue, kind of shiny, smells like citrus?"

            "Is there a point to this, or did someone perform a Befuddlement Charm on you?" Draco asked, now completely mystified.

            "Look... Fallon, she's been acting bizarre. I think it might be a potion. So? What type of potion? You actually _like_ that class..."

            "Blue potions... there aren't that many. There's a few healing potions, usually for rashes... and of course Contraceptive potion is blue. But... silvery blue? We've not learnt about that."

            Warrington ground his teeth in frustration and stalked back to the girls. Ai looked at him strangely, "Why do you think she took a potion?"

            "Yes, why, indeed?" Slaine piped up. Warrington fidgeted. All eyes were on him. _This_... was not good. And then, he took a glance at Fallon, who was still cowering behind Xanne and Malice, and gave a heavy sigh.

            "I gave her a potion."

            "And you don't know what it is?" Kate asked incredulously, "Are _you_ drugged as well, or am I missing something here?"

            "She made it," Warrington gestured Fallon, "On my request."

            "Well then..." Kate made an impatient gesture with her hands, "What did you request her to make?"

            Warrington felt his face heating up, but the girls' eyes were fixed on him relentlessly, "An aphrodisiac potion," he muttered out.

            Akasha actually giggled, "So, you asked her to make a potion to make her more... receptive..."

            "Well no... I just asked for her to make the potion! Do you think that I told her 'Fallon, make a potion that makes you hormonal so we can go shag'? Last time someone made a sexual advance on her, the bloke ended up getting kneed in the groin!"

            _SLAP!!_

            Warrington flinched, and looked down to see Morrigun Lennox glaring up at him, green eyes practically spitting flames. "You _imbecile!_ You absolute, abominable _prat! And you wonder why she's the way she is right now?!_ Now, I won't even go into how horrid it was to try to slip a lust potion into her drink, but... to just _ask_ her to make one... I can't _believe_ you!" Morrigun, soft-spoken, cultured, ladylike Prefect Morrigun Lennox, was virtually screaming at him. 

            He stared, dumbfounded, as all the girls save the one who was generally the feistiest of them all, glared daggers at him. He was about to speak, when Morrigun cut him off again, this time her voice low and baleful.

            "Cassius Warrington, have you ever considered _why_ Fallon does not allow blokes to make passes at her? Perhaps... she doesn't want _them _to touch her! Perhaps she would much rather be with someone else! But that someone else, no names mentioned, seems to have given her the impression that she's merely the source for a aphrodisiac potion... when you asked her for that, she probably understood it as 'oh there's the potions whiz, let me get her to make me a lust potion so I can go and shag some girl'! You... you..." And Morrigun reached up and slapped him again. 

            "The first was for the despicable idea of slipping any girl that potion, and the second was for Fallon." Morrigun hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Congratulations, Warrington. You have accomplished the near-impossible. You've hurt her to the core."

            There was nothing for him to say.

            "Now... to the problem of figuring out what type of potion she took. I can _guarantee_ that she didn't make the potion you requested."

            "She probably made something that was just the opposite," Akasha muttered darkly, "And if she decides, in this madness, to abstain from the company of men forever and become a bloody nun, it would serve you right."

            Ravyn rose from her seat with a sniff, "Well, I'll go ask Snape to see if there's any antidote... we'll say that someone wanted to play a trick on her."

            Warrington nodded dumbly, and the girl continued, her voice hard, "_On the condition_ that you confess to her after she's put to rights again. And if she decides to break your arm... well..." Saying so, she whirled out of the Common Room.

            An agonizingly long thirty minutes later, Ravyn returned with a vial of a deep wine-red potion that smelled of roses and coffee. Gently, she lifted Fallon's veil, and poured the potion into her mouth.

            One minute... two minutes... three minutes... Warrington was starting to fear that it had not worked... that it had not been the correct antidote... when an outraged, ear-splitting shriek of "_What the bloody sodding hell am I doing wearing THIS?!_" reached his ears. And then, a black velvet cloak flew threw the air and hit him squarely in the face. A moment later, there was a whoosh of movement, as Fallon Anderson, back to her old self, dashed for her room to get rid of "_This blasted ridiculous get-up! I look like a bloody hag!_"

            "Ahem!" Kate cleared her throat behind him, as he pulled the cloak off his head. The girl looked at him, then looked pointedly at the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He winced slightly, but walked in the direction of Fallon's room. If _Morrigun_ had slapped him twice... well, all things considered, he deserved it.

            Fallon had just finished shrugging off the overlarge robe and was in the process of donning the one that she'd worn earlier during the day when there was a knock on her door. "Who is it?"

            "Me," Cassius said rather tentatively.

            "It's open!" She called out. He pushed open the door and walked in. She ignored him and continued to button her robe. "What do you want?"

            "Er..." he paused, unsure of how exactly to say it, "You know why you were acting so strange and wearing that...?" he gestured the shapeless garment thrown haphazardly on the floor.

            "No, care to enlighten me?" Fallon had finished buttoning up her robe, though her hair was still down. She sat down on her bed, and waved him towards the chair by her desk.

            "Well... you had a potion... Akasha guessed that it was a chastity potion of some type... er..."

            Fallon's eyes widened, and all of the sudden, she remembered the events of the day before... his request, and what she had brewed. "That... that potion was meant for _ME?!_" she squeaked, her face flabbergasted, "You... you asked me to make you an aphrodisiac potion... so you could slip it to me?!"

            He nodded sheepishly, "Morrigun slapped me for it... it's your turn now, I suppose."

            "Before I do..." Fallon cut him off crisply, "I have one question. Why did you do it?"

            "Because... Oh, because I've seen the way you've dealt with other blokes when they try to get with you! And I'd much rather not end up with broken bones, or pickled for potions supplies! I was being stupid, I know... but what was I supposed to do? You're bloody _scary_ at times, Fallon... I didn't know how to approach you! You seemed to think that I was just someone you liked to argue with. And it drove me bloody mad because... well, I damn well wanted to be more than that to you. Do you know how many times I'd stopped myself from shutting you up in the middle of our little arguments by snogging you senseless, reminding myself that if I did such a thing, I'd probably end up disemboweled and missing a few appendages?"

            Fallon looked at him blankly, and he closed his mouth. Any moment now... she'd give him a black eye. And a diatribe that would probably breach a silencing charm.

            But then, she spoke, and her voice was soft and sad, "Is that what you really think, Cassius? Am I really that much of a nasty bitch?"

            Her defeated, hurt tone cut him much more than violence and fury would have, and at that moment, he felt lower than a flattened flobberworm. Her head was down, her face was partially hidden by the curtain of her hair. He got up and walked forward until he was right in front of her, and then pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He didn't deserve to hold her... he really didn't. But for a moment, he just held her close. And then, he pulled away, and looked down into her face. She looked... dejected, almost.

            "No, you're not that much of a nasty bitch. I'm a bastard, that's all," he growled, "And a cowardly one at that. I suppose that this is my cue to apologize, then your cue to hit me and never speak to me again." He took a deep breath, and spoke, "I'm sorry for making you feel that way, Fallon. And I'm sorry for hurting you. And for even wanting to slip you a potion like that. It was selfish and I'm a prat for thinking of it. You may hit me now."

            Fallon looked up at him. They were close enough that their robes brushed, and... well, things had turned out rather... interestingly. One thing was certain, though. He was not going to try and get with some cheap floozy. She smiled slightly to herself, and then pulled him down for a gentle kiss.

            Well... it was _supposed_ to be a gentle kiss. But somehow, a moment later, she found herself backed against her wardrobe, clinging onto him for dear life as his mouth plundered hers, She had no idea how his hands had slipped to the openings at the side of her robe or how her legs had wound to cradle his hips or how her fingers had threaded themselves through his hair. No idea at all. But this was quite lovely. But... she... needed air...

            They broke apart, and it took a moment for her to regain her wits. And then, she balled one hand into a fist, and slammed it into his shoulder. Not anywhere where there could be any serious injury, but it would smart for the rest of the day.

            "Don't you _dare_ ever try something so appalling as trying to drug me ever again, Cassius Warrington! Do you hear? If you ever attempt something so revolting again, I swear on my wand that I will slice off your genitals with a dull and rusty knife!" she hissed. He winced, one hand coming up to rub his painful shoulder, and nodded. She glared at him for a moment longer, and then smiled.

            "Good," she purred and stepped gracefully back into his arms, "Now... where were we?" 

*          *          *

            Alexander Montague glanced at his watch, "It's been an hour and a half since they've gone," he commented idly.

            "It's awfully quiet," Vittorio Derrick mused aloud, "D'you think we should see if they're okay?"

            Marcus Flint shook his head adamantly, "No."

            "I agree," Adrian Pucey nodded.

            "She might have killed him, I'm a bit concerned; that's all." Derrick muttered. Kevin Bole, his fellow Beater, shook his head.

            "Look, just because Fallon's no longer acting like a daft nun doesn't mean that she won't kill you if you walk in while she's naked and shagging. Not to mention... Warrington will probably kill you too. Poor bugger finally getting some."

            Derrick snorted, "Don't you think they'd be a little louder if that were the case?"

            Malfoy gave the Beater a very patronizing look, "Warrington's best class is Charms. I'm sure he'd think of something. Now... let's not think about him until he comes out and then we can laugh at any suspicious bruises and bite-marks."

            "Out of Fallon's earshot, of course," Derrick sniggered lightly.

            "Of course," Draco agreed, "I almost feel sorry for the bloke."

            But at that moment, Cassius Warrington was not feeling sorry for himself at all.

*          *          *

~Fin~

*          *          *


End file.
